Daniel McDonagh

The sky was black with grief & anger,
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Between the stars and the River Clyde
A path appears when the moon is bright,
And rising from their sleep, awake the Glasgow souls
And descend onto the path of silver and gold.
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From a green, beautiful troubled land,
Arrived on the shores, an Irishman,
A hitched ride to the cobbled streets of Glasgow
Were a job could fill a lonely soul.
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My father wore the colour of green
Deep within his heart,
Were he grew up in the Garngad
And walked the miles to Celtic Park.
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Oh father, can you hear
The voice of the Celtic fans
Who praise and glorify an Irish son
While others abuse his religion,
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Glasgow’s little Ireland lay in the Garngad
Where every boy followed the Celtic, along with his dad.
From those broken down streets, against a tenement wall,
A window pane is smashed, from a beautifully struck goal.
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There is a darkness in my soul
Black, cold and it is whispering,
Whispering so soft and so gentle,
Inviting compassion and daring.
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I feast my eyes on hardened rain,
cleanse me
drown me.
Clouds rest to shelter,
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Sean McBride and his young wife
Set out form County Cork,
They traveled over to Glasgow town
Were a football game they would watch,
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The entrance to C’Adder is guarded by a creature
Who rides a black unicorn, carrying his head in his hand,
His eyes watch all strangers, pilgrims of God
Who have been chased from their dwellings, robbed of their land.
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We have supported the Celtic, our pride and joy,
Since wearing the hoops as a 5 year old boy,
As Paradise was imagined on a tenement backcourt
Were games were won and battles fought.
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Songs of joy and and songs of celebration
Echoed on the terracing of old Hampden,
And crucified while standing firm on his goal line,
Stood the Rangers goalie, George Niven.
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In the famous land of the barren east end
lies broken factories and foundries,
the old city of industrial past
is forgotten and full of broken waste.
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When Brother Walfrid came to Glasgow
and settled in the old east end,
he would build a team for the diocese
that sheltered Irish immigrants,
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An Gorta Mór
forced the Irish nation
To flee their homeland
of death and starvation,
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Poverty dressed our hearts and souls
While ignorant mouth cursed and swore,
Our faith we treasured, for every night we would pray
For God to take us home, to Ireland one day.
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In the east end of Glasgow, there’s Parkhead
Were the voice of the Celtic is sung,
As we’ve stood many a day, watching the Celtic play,
Introduced to the hoops when we were young.
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The Celtic songs filled heaven's sky
and we marched along the Gallowgate
Joined by comrades, brothers and sisters,
As Brother Walfrid stood by Parkhead's gates.
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Green flags are unfurled and fill Glasgow's sky
Banners of Celtic held up high
Keep the faith, with pride, Walk on
Fill your heart with a Celtic song.
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The Celtic Cross
The old Celtic Cross adorned the breast
Of the men who wore Celtic’s first strip,
This Christian symbol representing a halo from Christ
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